


Perfection and Deception

by rosesandcinnamon



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 1920s ish, F/F, Mob Boss AU, Murder, Period-Typical Sexism, Unhealthy Relationships, more tags probably, various crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesandcinnamon/pseuds/rosesandcinnamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Deception and perfection are wonderful traits, one will breed love, the other, hate. </i><br/>Historia Reiss is everything a young woman should be- on the surface.<br/>She's a woman with the most enchanting smile anyone's ever seen, a woman with impeccable style, flawless even if it's five in the morning and she's been awake for God knows how long. She has a long line of suitors, but one lover constantly at her side.<br/>Coincidentally, the same woman who killed her own father and holds a city in her perfectly manicured hand, but who could prove a thing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. and I promised myself that I’d do anything / anything at all for them to notice me

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist: http://8tracks.com/rosesandcinnamon/perfection-and-deception  
> Official tracklist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLcYfNANvs-04crNIMQWMKh7Sm2udbsHn6
> 
> If you'd like my attention drawn to something on tumblr, please tag it as "perfection and deception au" and "roses and cinnamon".
> 
> I have no idea what time period this is because I'm too lazy for research.
> 
> Rating will probably go up.
> 
> Happy birthday Farran <3 I hope it's a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening: [When I Grow Up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWXswkTvxnk)

In the first place, Historia Reiss is never meant to exist.

Her mother is just another whore, desperate for something, and her father the most powerful man in the city. No one wants her.

She's raised by house servants, staying in the kitchen and hidden parts of the house. She mustn't bother Father, he's very busy, too busy for a bastard daughter with bright eyes and too many questions. But he has time for beautiful Frieda, the better daughter, one who is everything Historia is not.

She should be jealous, she thinks.

But Frieda is so kind to her, spending aimless days with her little sister, telling stories and playing games. They're each other's only friends, besides the help’s children.

Frieda means everything in the entire world to little Historia.

But as her life continues to prove, nothing good is forever.

(And that’s how she learns to hold on to everything she has.)

She is ten years old when Frieda is murdered. Five years her elder, _Father Dearest_ had begun to bring around all his rivals’ sons, trying to find one who created a win/win situation.

One got too attached.

Frieda was a good girl, with “proper” morals, and besides, no one would have wanted those filthy hands on them.

He didn’t like that.

Historia is woken by screaming and shouting, early in the morning. There is so much _noise_ in the hallway her sister and she share, and it’s terrifying.

She wants to go find out what’s happening but she is small and afraid, and pulls the blankets up over her head. She lies awake for too long.

Finally, so much later in the day, the mother of one of the kitchen girls Historia plays with slips inside her room.

“Miss?”

She sits up, eyes wide and her skin pale, and something deep inside her bones already knows.

“Your sister is dead.”

Young, innocent Historia is never the same.

\--

The days before the funeral are the first her father truly spends with her. He moves her into new rooms of the house, replaces her wardrobe, and hires several instructors. For what, she doesn’t exactly know.

She lets it happen, because what used to be a spark in her chest has turned into a dull buzz, and the only one she wants to talk to about Frieda’s death is Frieda.

\--

Just before the funeral, the boy who killed her sister and his father come around, to “give their sincerest regrets”.

The boy's face is red, with deep, angry cuts across it.

Historia smiles.

Her sister marked him, made it so he would always remember what happened.

He doesn't show at the funeral, but it’s no matter.

She knows his face.

\--

Historia cries, and hates it. People crowd around her, offering tissues and condolences, but she doesn’t want it, doesn’t want strangers anywhere near her, she wants to be hiding in her room, she wants to be outdoors with Frieda.

The church is so stuffy and Historia doesn’t even believe in a God.

If there is one, He’s never done anything for her.

It’s too warm, and the man at the front of the room is _droning on and on_ about nothing at all, and she wants to feel something, but she can’t.

\--

Historia has some time to recover before her father starts molding her to be the perfect daughter. He did it to Frieda, but Frieda’s gone.

The instructors are for etiquette, dancing, hosting, mathematics, art, literature, so many lessons she feels she may “have a fit of hysterics”, whatever those are. She is introduced to all the Important People, memorizing names and places and importance.

She feels much too small for the burden she is given.

Her father has no sons, and she slowly begins to understand this is a very bad thing. It means, she thinks, that he has disadvantages, and that’s why her sister was so important.

Frieda was supposed to be something useful, and herself, well, she was just the backup.

Historia allows herself to grow into the expectations, like some rosebush cultivated into a perfect shape.

And she ends up to be good at it.

She smiles, and is kind, and remembers all her manners, all the names, all the little details that make up a person. She behaves beyond perfection.

Eight years turns out to be not very long at all.


	2. frame me up on your wall just to keep me out of trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know Frieda's character at all, because I'm behind on the manga, so my apologies if this is far from the way she is. But shoutout to [Ari](yumikuries.tumblr.com) for telling me about her characterization, because this chapter wouldn't exist if not for that! I wanted to flesh her out a little more.
> 
> Recommended listening: [Irresistible ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNkivNlkjj8)

Frieda Reiss feels as if she has a balancing act and vaguely poor coordination.

Her life is manageable, but there’s a constant threat of falling.

She keeps her father happy.

She keeps everyone happy.

She’s just not so sure about herself.

Frieda knows who she is supposed to be, so that’s who she is.

\--

She sits through another boring lunch with some of her father’s friends, and sees Historia peek through the doors when things are almost finished.

Frieda glances at her father, and wonders if he’ll notice if she leaves.

Since the first few minutes, no one has spoken to her. At all.

She is just a pretty little decoration, and underneath the table, her fingers curl.

Isn’t life just amazing?

Historia is still at the door, and Frieda shakes her head, giving her a smile. She disappears with a flash of blonde hair.

Frieda stares at her plate and hopes, _prays_ , that her little sister will have a better time of it.

Eventually, she escapes.

Part of her wants to go lie in her bed and sleep forever (she is fifteen after all), but she heads to the kitchen, looking for Historia.

Her sister is helping Mrs. Bodt and her son, peeling potatoes and giggling at something Marco is telling her about. It’s adorable, and Frieda slips in beside them, quietly asking if Historia can be spared.

“Of course! Marco, she has to go now. Thank you for all your help, miss.”

Historia smiles brightly as she slips off her stool.

They leave together, and she looks up at her.

“Is everything …alright? You looked kinda mad.”

Frieda puts a gentle hand on her head.

“It was nothing.”

Historia gives her a look, but doesn’t argue.

They sit down against the wall in the older’s room, and their pile of favorite books is rifled through, until one makes its way into Frieda’s hands.

She smiles, tapping Historia’s nose.

“I know you can read.”

She shrugs, hiding her face.

“You do it better.”

Frieda shakes her head, and opens the book.

She reads to Historia until dinner, the sun setting behind them, golden light washing over her room.

It’s peaceful, and that’s all she wants.

If only this could be their life all the time.

Unfortunately, there are roles to fill and life is too short.


	3. you look like my next mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Ari, I hope it's a good one!  
> Recommended listening: [Blank Space ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-ORhEE9VVg)

Bertholdt finds her lazing about in a speakeasy, flirting with girls, and she's about to get in a fight when he pulls her away, face pale.

"What did you _do?"_

Ymir stares at him blankly, and he bites his lip.

"The client just left. Annie is angrier than I've ever seen, and Reiner can only do so much."

She sighs, and starts heading out.

Bertl is right. Annie is unspeakably furious.

She glances up when Ymir comes in, and that ice cold glare makes her want to turn and run.

"You _._ "

For the first time after running away, Ymir feels smaller than an ant.

Annie unfolds from her chair, grace and power in every move she makes.

"Do you know what you've done?"

Ymir stares at the floor.

"Don't even answer," she says, and there is a cold detachment in her tone. "I'll tell you, Ymir. There was one girl on God's green earth you were not supposed to fuck."

Her voice drips with resentment.

"And guess what. You fucked _that one girl_."

Ymir shoves down the laugh in her throat as Annie steps into her line of vision.

“You fucked me over. It turns out fathers don’t appreciate it when their precious daughters are seen with the most scandalous woman around, you know.”

They make eye contact, and it’s the most terrifying moment of Ymir’s life.

"I hope it was a good lay, Ymir. I hope it was worth it. If anyone of mine ever sees you again, you'll be dead."

Annie turns and walks away, a swift dismissal, and she stares at her back before turning around and leaving, only running when she’s out the door.

\---

For the second time in such a short life, Ymir has nowhere to go and no ideas.

Well, she has one idea.

It’s not a good one.

But it’s dark and cold, and she has no other options.

She makes her way to the biggest building on the outskirts of town, climbing its fence when no one is looking.

Taking a deep breath, she knocks on the door, and tells the answering servant that she has business with Reiss.

Ymir is taken to him surprisingly quickly, but when she steps inside a lavish dining room, she understands.

There are two people at the long table, Reiss at the end, and a pretty blonde at his left (a few seats down). She raises her head, glancing at her with just a flicker of interest in her eyes. Ymir looks at her in much the same way, before focusing on Reiss himself.

His gaze is cold, disinterested, but it carries _none_ of the power and disdain Annie’s does.

She wonders why the lion-hearted woman is steps below this man, but he interrupts her thought.

“Come sit.”

Ymir takes awkward steps towards the head of the table, not sure where she should stop, and the blonde’s eyes on her have more weight than his does. They make eye contact, and Ymir wants to wink, but that want is what got her into this mess in the first place. It’s strange though, the blonde draws her attention, and it seems that she’s the one in control.

(And that’s how Ymir is the first to see through Historia’s deception.)

She continues on, and sits at Reiss’s right.

He squints at her, and she feels vaguely uncomfortable.

“Your name?”

“Ymir- sir.”

She hates to suck up to someone like him, but if she’s to last the winter, that’s what has to be done.

“Now, Ymir, what can you do for me?”

The phrasing makes her twitch, and she sees the blonde look down at her lap.

“Well, sir, are you familiar with the small gang, the Titans? Annie Leonhardt is the head. I- let’s say we had some mild disagreements. Simply enough, I left, and I need protection. I’ll tell you anything and everything I know about her plans, if you give me a place to stay.”

He mulls it over for a second, eyes narrowed.

“How old are you?”

“I- I’m not entirely sure, sir. Twenty, maybe.”

He nods.

“My daughter is close to eighteen. Historia, introduce yourself to our guest.”

And so, the pretty blonde finally has a name.

She rises slowly, and a flash of irritation flashes through her face, before it’s replaced with a beautiful smile.

And Ymir means _beautiful_.

For just a moment, she’s reduced to staring and watching as she gracefully avoids the chair beside her, rounding the table to greet her.

She blinks hurriedly when Historia stands in front of her, hand outstretched.

Ymir takes it, and- _God_ , this girl has a tight grip. There’s a challenge in her eyes, and she just wants to slink away, out of the room and down the hallway.

And then she speaks.

“I’m Historia, as my father said. It’s a pleasure to have your company, Ymir.”

She never wants to hear her name out of anyone else’s mouth again; she wants to listen to Historia say _Ymir_ in that light, welcoming voice forever.

She’s struck with the certainty that this Historia is actually an angel, here on earth to play with mortal’s lives.

If that’s true, she’d be happy to let her do anything she wished with her.

It feels like forever before she can reply.

“The pleasure is all mine, Historia.”

That was actually smoother than Ymir thought it would be. She smiles again, and goes back to her seat.

The transition from Historia to her father is not at all smooth, and it’s a little off-putting. Why would she listen to this stuffy old man when his daughter is a literal shining ray of beauty?

She quickly reminds herself- it’s because that stuffy old man has the power.

No one ever said this world was fair.

He’s looking at her critically, and she just waits.

When he does speak, it’s not in her favor.

“You tell me everything you know, and do whatever errands I need you to. For that, you may take a room here and I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine now.”

“Am I going to like these errands?”

He smiles.

“No.”

Ymir shrugs, and speaks as if it’s no matter to her. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

She just hopes to a God she lost faith in so long ago that she won’t have to kill again.

Reiss stands up, and she does the same.

“Come, Ymir. We’ll discuss more in the study.”

He smiles at Historia, but it has no feeling in it.

“Delicate ears don’t need to hear such things.”

Ymir follows him out of the room, and she casts one glance backwards.

Historia is staring at the wall, the set of her face so angry, she wants to find whatever caused that and rip it apart.

She shakes her head as they walk down the hallway.

Pretty girls have such an effect on her, but Historia- she’s an entirely different game.

 


	4. glory and gore go hand in hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where all the murder and crime starts, just so you know.  
> Recommended listening: [Glory and Gore](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEHHh8IBhpY)

Historia is nineteen years old, and she feels the pressure of being the only surviving child.

She’s bound to be married off soon enough, and she shudders at the thought of marriage, yet another man who can control her, and inevitable chidren.

Her father is in the middle of a Very Important Deal, so there is an overly lavish dinner planned, of course. She’s met the Very Important Person he’s dealing with, and his son, Thomas.

The boy is around her age, and he is everything she is not.

He is overly enthusiastic, blindly optimistic, and she has a suspicion he has no idea what’s happening at any time. He even pronounces Reiss wrong.

And, he has the creepiest set of sideburns anyone could ever have. They’re just so bushy.

But even worse- he has an interest in her she dislikes.

Historia is attractive and she knows it. She also knows he is staring at her from across the room with his eyes and she pointedly ignores it.

Her father notices it too.

He pulls her aside before dinner, steel in his gaze.

“Whatever that boy wants of you, you are to give him. Is that clear?”

She meets his eyes without fear, hiding any emotion in her voice.

“Yes, Father.”

Thomas and Historia are placed together at the table, and she listens to him talk for hours, absently stabbing whatever’s on her plate at the time, eating little.

She inspects her nails, and accidentally catches his eyes with a glare. He falters, and she puts a sweet smile on her face, leaning forward.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry. Please, go on.”

He shyly smiles back, and she genuinely feels a little bad for him. It’s not his fault she’s completely uninterested.

After all, they’re both just pawns of their fathers.

But the difference between them- Historia is going to change that.

She waits for a pause in his conversation, and it comes at the moment the main course arrives. There’s a smile on her face, and a horrid thought in the back of her mind.

“Thomas, would you mind terribly if you cut the meat for me?”

He brightens at the chance to impress her, and- oh, perfect. He leans over to grab his father’s prized knife, and cuts the meat.

The knife rests on the table, and Historia takes a moment to appraise it. It’s beautiful, in a wicked way, all cold steel and a dangerously sharp edge.

She waits.

Finally, their fathers go discuss business, and Thomas is so oblivious, she slips the knife into her long sleeve, not breathing until it’s secure.

She leads him to the parlor where, unfortunately, they are alone.

They sit, making idle conversation, playing an unconscious game. Thomas scoots nearer, Historia leans away. He moves his hands, she gives them space. She rests her hand on her cheek, he mirrors her.

It's incredibly irritating.

She hopes her father is done soon.

But why wait?

She minds her manners and lets him finish his thought.

"Would you mind if I retired early, Thomas? I'm tired."

There's disappointment on his face, but he nods.

"Good night, Historia."

He smiles as she leaves.

\--

Historia waits.

Her room is lit by a single candle, shadows cast across the floor from the flame. Her eyes adjust to the darkness.

She waits until she hears footsteps above her.

They recede, and she smiles.

She waits, and is reminded of something.

\--

_Her father is staring at her._

_Historia's really not sure why, she's just trying to eat her lunch._

_She's beginning to feel like she did when Frieda died, miniscule and terrified._

_Instead of giving in, she takes a deep breath, curls her pretty little hand into a fist, and meets his eyes._

_There's an uncomfortable silence and she wants to look away, but her gaze is cold as she sips her water._

_After what feels like forever, he laughs and looks away._

_She blinks, startled by the sudden sound._

_“If only you had been born a boy, Historia. You and your sister both.”_

_She pretends that doesn’t make her angry, and keeps her voice composed._

_“Why?”_

_He laughs again, and it’s mocking._

_“Why? I’d be even more powerful with sons like you and your sister. Instead I have bargaining tools to sit around and look pretty.”_

_She tightens her mouth and doesn't look at him._

_"I thought... I'm the only child, so I figured when you're gone I'd take your place..."_

_"That's a boy's job. Historia, your job is to marry the son of someone I want to be on good terms with."_

_His words make a cold shiver run down her spine, ice creeping into her skin, and she feels tears build._

_She shouldn’t have held that stupid hope._

_"May I be excused?"_

_"Go."_

_She flashes him a brilliant smile, pushes her chair in, and leaves._

_Historia passes Ymir in the hallway, and she seems like she wants to reach out and ask about the tears slipping down her face._

_But she looks straight through Ymir, as if she wasn't there._

_Ymir goes into the dining room, and looks at Reiss quizzically._

_"What was that?"_

_He scoffs._

_"Women. So temperamental."_

\--

The memory flashes through her mind, and her chest fills with heat.

She's been treated so horribly. Her sister was treated so horribly.

She won't put up with this anymore.

Historia shuts her door softly, and knows any indecision is to be abandoned in the hallway.

Her feet fall lightly on the carpet, as she takes a detour downstairs to the storage room.

It’s dark, and the moon is barely peeking through the small window, throwing its light just far enough for her to find where the maids keep the spare keys.

She finds it by touch alone, the strange progression of bumps and low points distinctive.

Her father wanted his lock to be very difficult to pick, and she doesn’t even have to.

Historia takes the stairs quickly, heart beginning to beat too fast for comfort.

She unlocks the door, slipping inside and closing it behind her.

Her body is a strange symphony- there is rage flooding her veins, a fear in her chest of the unknown, but her head is cold. She knows what she's doing. The window will be open, the knife will resurface later, and she will be sobbing on the floor.

No one will suspect a thing.

The deed is surprisingly easy. Her father lies on his back, sound asleep, and she cuts his throat open.

Blood splatters onto her face, and his body relaxes even further.

She stares in shock.

She didn't know it would feel like this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rest in piss.  
> You can find a funny version of the beginning [here](http://roses-and-cinnamon.tumblr.com/post/111916851897/so-my-brother-decided-chapter-4-of-perfection-and).


	5. baby we should have left our love in the gutter where we found it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _oh how the mighty fall in love_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening: [The Mighty Fall](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qPc4m_DGMMM)
> 
> Shoutout to everyone who helped me with this chapter!

Ymir is jarred awake by a piercing scream.

She trips out of bed and out of her room, following the hysterical sounds.

Reiss's door is ajar, and she pushes it open.

Historia is crumpled on the floor, blood smeared over her hands, finger-shaped splotches on her face, but Ymir looks at finer streaks and knows those didn't come from her.

Her father's body is lifeless on the bed.

A crowd gathers, everyone staring at the mess. Historia is still a wreck on the floor, and it occurs to Ymir that she should get her out of here before people start asking questions.

She picks the small girl up, adjusting so her face is hidden.

"I'm going to get her calmed down."

Nobody moves as Ymir leaves the room.

In the hall, she realizes Historia's sobs are more akin to laughter.

"Nice acting, princess."

The sound dies in her throat.

"What?"

Ymir shoves the kitchen door open with her foot, not replying until she sets Historia down.

Her blue gaze is wary, guarded.

"Tell me what happened."

"I don't know what woke me up, exactly. I looked out my window, and Father's was open. I thought that was strange, so I went down and got the key for his room. I was very distressed when I- when I saw him. You can imagine. I don't remember much after that. I must have touched him and then my face."

The sniffles and stray tears throughout her speech just add to her "broken little girl" demeanor.

Ymir quietly looks at her for a moment.

Historia thought this out. Pulling the innocent girl card, the hysterics, having a story, and when the murder weapon comes up, it won't be connected to her.

She's impressed, honestly.

Ymir remembers the first time they met, how she couldn't look away from her, couldn't believe she had met someone like her.

Since then, she had naturally gravitated towards her.

Historia stares at her, and she stares back.

"Who do you think did it?"

She's playing a dangerous game, if the last few hours are anything to go by.

Historia simply smiles, and leaves, feet falling lightly on the carpet.  
\--

When Ymir finally goes back to her room, there is a shadow in front of the window, waiting patiently.

Fear in her throat, she turns the lights on.

"Hey, Ymir."

She's dropped the innocent and shattered facade, with a smile on her face that is anything but pleasant, and Ymir is terrified to her bones.

She continues leaning against the window, curtains creasing below her weight, and inspects her hands, brushing some dried blood off.

"You know I killed him."

Ymir nods, afraid to do anything else.

"Here's what I'm thinking. You could leave, but there's still the possibility that Annie is still after your head."

She walks towards her, and Ymir is left with her head tipped down, deep blue eyes sucking her in.

"Stay with me. Help me intimidate everyone into accepting me. Don't talk, and you won't get kicked out."

She would answer, but there's a splatter of blood on her chin, stark against the pale skin. With a small frown, she licks her thumb.

"Hold on."

Ymir rubs it off, meeting her gaze.

"Blood on your chin."

Historia accepts her touch, almost leaning into it.

There’s a heavy silence in the air as they look at each other.

Ymir’s voice comes out low, almost velvety.

"What makes you think I would leave?"

Historia smiles, and it makes her think.

The things she could do.

The things they could do.

The idea of a future by her side is.… better than any future Ymir has ever imagined. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked please leave a comment :D


	6. with a thousand lies and a good disguise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening: [You’re Gonna Go Far Kid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0DTLcR5awn0)  
> Happy birthday Megan!!!!!!

The next morning, the body has been taken care of and the police have been called.

Historia's had a little time to recover, to lie in her bed and stare at the ceiling.

Ymir's hardly left her side, her presence comforting Historia in some way.

In a lot of ways.

There’s a knock at the parlor door where they’re talking, and Mina comes in to whisper in her ear. Historia nods, and gets up, looking in the mirror next to the door.

She was expecting a visit from Erwin Smith.

“Ymir, come over here.”

She obediently comes to her side. Historia turns around, and she recognizes the beginnings of the innocent facade in her face.

She smiles.

“Do I look the mourning daughter?”

Ymir tilts her head thoughtfully. She’s wearing the proper black, but…

“Can you cry on demand?”

“No, not this quick.”

Historia glances around, and her gaze settles on the bottle of perfume on the table.

Ymir follows her quick steps across the room, and when the heavy glass bottle is placed in her hands, she looks at her, more confused than she can express.

“I need you to spray this in my eyes.”

“What? No!”

She sighs, and takes it back, opening her eyes wide.

Historia sprays perfume in her eyes with barely a flinch.

She turns to check the mirror, and the watery redness of her eyes seems to be satisfactory, after she wipes them to smudge the mascara.

She smiles calmly at Ymir, and sweeps out of the room.

“I’ll be back later.”

Ymir stares after her, flushed admiration on her face.  
\--

Her mind is racing, but her steps are calculated and light.

Erwin Smith had asked to see her father’s study, so that’s where Mina left him, but Historia hopes he won’t prod around.

Taking a deep breath, she opens the door, pulling her handkerchief out of her sleeve.

He stands at the sound, and it’s so satisfying to watch the thought process on his face.

Historia knows what he thinks of her.

She’s a tiny woman in a fashionable, but black, dress, a picture-perfect smile on her face, though her eyes are bloodshot.

She appears to be harmless, and appearance is everything.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Smith.”

“Hello, Miss Reiss.”

She extends her hand, and he takes it with a grip that nearly matches hers. His hand is warm and rough, and she knows hers is delicate and small.

After a few pleasantries are exchanged, the two sit, Historia taking her place behind her father’s desk, while Erwin is in the chair in front of it, and she knows from experience how uncomfortable it is.

She waits for him to adjust his notes, meet her eyes, and begin the conversation.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Miss. But I need to ask you a few questions.”

Historia gestures languidly towards him, not breaking eye contact.

“Go right ahead.”

They go over her version of events, and Historia tries not to think about what really happened.

And then he gets to the interesting part.

“Are you aware of the level of criminal activity your father was involved in?”

Oh, he’s smart.

She raises an eyebrow, a few tears welling up.

“Such as?”

He shifts uncomfortably.

“Blackmail, premeditated murder, theft, evasion of taxes.”

She stays silent for a beat.

“...And a lot more with no direct connection to him, just suspicion.”

“How could you even say that of my late father?"

Her voice quavers, high and distressed, as she dabs away a tear.

“I'm very sorry, Miss Reiss, but it’s the truth.”

Historia nods slowly, pretending this is news to her.

“Well, there was coming and going at all hours of the night. Some of his friends frightened me. Not to speak ill of the dead, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Erwin leans forward.

“Do you think his death was because of said criminal activity?”

Historia lets the question fall in the silence, inspecting her nails.

She drops the facade, and looks him squarely in the eye.

“Why, I’d imagine so.”

She watches the uncertainty bloom in his gaze.

Appearance is everything, and she just threw a stone at the perfect reflection he sees.

His manner doesn't change, of course. They talk for a few more minutes, until Erwin sighs and closes his notebook.

"I don't have anything else to ask. Again, I'm sorry for your loss."

Historia smiles at him, standing up.

She feels so powerful behind the heavy wooden desk.

"I appreciate it."

Mina shows him out, and Historia returns to the parlor, where Ymir's lying across the loveseat.

"Did you have fun?"

She sits down, glancing at her.

"Of course."

Historia sits quietly for a few minutes, and sighs.

"Do you want to see what's in my- the study?"

Ymir nearly falls, she moves so quickly.

"Yes."

Historia glances at her out of the corner of her eye, a tiny smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment if you liked <3  
> There's another baby edit [here](http://roses-and-cinnamon.tumblr.com/post/113386134062/theres-been-another-babby-edit-made-this-time-by).


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